Ghosts of Loss
by Ayrki
Summary: In the unlikeliest of places, Olivia finds a conversation and understanding. Post 'Loss' and 'Ghost' and alludes to AlexOlivia.


**...I'm going to bloody well kill this damn thing if it doesn't correctly upload the damned file... you guys are having some serious problems, mates. I'm damn near done with this site if you don't get it fixed. **

**Title:** Ghosts of Loss

**Guilty Party:** Ayrki

**Element:** Law and Order: SVU

**Spoilers: **'Loss,' 'Ghost,' and 'Haunted'

**Timeline:** Two years directly after 'Loss,' including 'Ghost'

**Genre/Category:** Angstish, general introspection

**Overall Story Rating:** Everyone

**Pairing:** Alluded to Alex/Olivia

**Summary:** With the unlikeliest of people, Olivia finds herself remembering.

**Status (beta'd/unbeta'd):** Unbeta'd but Alpha'd (prelim glance over)

**Accomplice (if applicable):** Nope. Applications still accepted.

**Total Number of Chapters/Parts:** One.

**SiS (Stories in Series if applicable):** Standalone, but I've been threatened unless I write sequel.

**Archive Listing:** Yahoo!Groups: Nocturnal Musings, AlexOlivia, OliviaAlex, 16th Precinct. Sites: hopefully Passion and Perfection.

If anyone else wants it, let me know.

**Disclaimer:** I own not anything under the name of Wolf, and aside from about nine taped episodes and a million ideas, I've nothing associated with Law and Order or any of its spawn. I'm just playing and obsessing/addicted. Hell, I ain't even in the same country as it.

**Legal Disclaimer:** Standard language and the like warnings apply. Special disclaimer one: undoubtedly, this will have excessive use of shoujo-ai in it. I've seriously come to doubt my ability to write anything without such overtones or undertones, or even sideways tones, so be warned. For those confuzzled, shoujo-ai is a gentler and much less violent way of saying slash.

**Confession/Author's Ramblings aka Notes:** I swear, I had these headers created before I ever wrote SVU fic. I'm not trying to be clever.

You know, I find it very strange to be writing a fic for a series I've seen little of, and particularly centred around two episodes I haven't even seen. To top it off, I'm using a character I've seen onscreen for all of about 30 seconds to a minute of. sighs Yes, I am an idiot about what I write, but my muse attacked me with the idea and when she speaks, I write.

This is the first story of L&O: SVU that I've finished and posted, so please let me know what you think.

**Accessory:** Oh, I fully blame Lex 'Spork' Tenou for this and anything that will ever come out of me remotely associated to SVU since it was she who got me interested initially and later addicted to it. Thank you not only for starting me on it, and then reading it before I posted. Having someone whose work you've respected for ages say you suck horribly is so bloody wicked. grins Thanks, dude.

Pulling the collar of his coat up to ward off the chill threatening to creep down his neck, the man tightened the scarf around his neck as he stepped off the last of the stone walk to the building he'd just exited. He glanced up and down the street before joining the endless flow of bodies. While he wasn't going to walk the entire journey to his destination, he wanted to use a few blocks to shake the last of the building he worked in and the responsibilities he had there. Where he was going, they had no place.

None of that world had any right to touch her. Not any more.

As he watched his exhaled breath curl into itself before him, the tall, handsome man let the dark melancholy descend upon him. There was only one day a year he indulged in the thoughts and memories, and today, he let them come. Every year, he made the trek to the graveyard to pay tribute to a woman that made his professional life bloody difficult. He supposed that on some sort of level he should have been relieved or thankful to not ever have to face her again. Instead, all he felt was a deep sense of sorrow and loss. They might have been mortal judicial enemies, but Trevor Langan still mourned the loss of Alex Cabot.

Some might think that he would be happy at the prospect of not having to contend with the immovable ADA Cabot. That he would see the smoother court battles and absence of the infamous ice princess of Sex Crimes -the informal title Alex had been bestowed with upon her appointment to the SVU- as a silver lining. That couldn't have been further from the truth. The reality was, every time Trevor walked into a courtroom and saw Alex's successor at the prosecution table, he felt a profound sadness.

Trevor had taken a liking to Alex the moment he had met her and that crisp autumn morning when he'd picked up the Ledger, he felt like he'd been poleaxed. She was a friend and had been one of the few who understood coming from affluence and upper class expectations. The first time they'd met might have been on the courthouse steps, but that fact was obsolete in the face of having come from similar backgrounds. They didn't commiserate the woes of wealth and power, but instead just had a simple awareness of each other. Through that initial familiarity, they'd forged an understanding of each other outside of the courtroom.

Raising his hand, the attorney hailed a cab and slipped into it once the car stopped. He gave the driver the name and address of the cemetery and sat back in the seat. Predictably, Trevor's thoughts returned to the woman who'd died two years before. His eyes slid shut as he sighed deeply. Despite only being casual friends, Alex's death had been a shattering blow to both him and the entire law enforcement community. The fact that she'd been fighting for the victims and on the side of justice –he was man and lawyer enough to admit that's what she did- made the loss all the more painful and unjust.

When Trevor opened his eyes again and watched the streets of the city slide past, he again thought of Alex's detective just as he did every year. As he stood in the cemetery that cold October day, Trevor had realised that as badly as he hurt, one look told him, it could have been much worse. When he'd seen the haunted grief on Olivia Benson's troubled features, he'd known that the sorrow and pain had to be unbearable. The woman honestly looked lost, like part of her had been ripped away.

That cold day and the one year directly afterwards, Trevor felt the most profound sympathy for the detective. Not pity, but true compassion. Pity was one thing Olivia Benson did not need and he would never insult her with it. He felt for her though, and when he'd trudged through the abnormally early dusting of snow towards the plot that first anniversary, the silence the two of them had stood in hadn't been hostile. An hour and a year had passed before Trevor found the courage to speak to the dark detective.

"_She never knew when to quit. When she caught the scent of blood, she'd go after you until she had you nailed to the wall." Somehow, the words didn't come off sounding as hollow as he'd feared._

_The detective glanced up at him for a moment before nodding. "It's who she…was." The hesitation was barely noticeable but still the attorney picked up on it. He kept silent though._

_Trevor nodded too. "It's one of the things I respected about her. One of the many things."_

"_I worried sometimes about it. Not about this actually happening, but about the personal investment she formed sometimes." Olivia didn't know why she was telling Langan of all people, except that she felt the deep need to let some of what she felt out._

_Again, the man nodded. "She knew you cared. She said it helped knowing that someone did; that it made it a little less scary."_

_Dark, unreadable brown eyes lifted to meet his gaze and he understood what had captivated Alex so. The detective looked back at the solemn headstone with the bold lettering etched into it and swallowed thickly._

_A good ten minutes passed in silence before the man spoke again. "No matter how hard I tried, I could never steal her away from you," Trevor said, his voice soft and thoughtful. He waited a beat until the detective's head snapped up before adding. "Professionally, of course. I never stood any other sort of chance. Not with you in the picture." His smile was neutrally friendly. "I knew how happy she was anyway, but even work-wise, she wouldn't budge. I tried to woo her away a number of times with a lucrative job with the firm. She wouldn't have any of it though."_

_Somewhere, Olivia found the strength to smile and deliver the quip lightly. "She never would have gone over to 'the dark side.'"_

_Encouraged by the presence of something other than the dull, haunted pain, Trevor returned the smile. "I know, but that didn't stop me trying." He was quiet for a few more moments before speaking again. "Alex and I would have coffee a couple of times a month; sometimes even once a week. She never explicitly came out and say anything, but I could tell she really cared for you. She truly loved you." He took a breath and released it as he stood, preparing to leave Olivia to her thoughts. "If they didn't like her outright, everyone at least admired and respected Alex." Talking a risk, but wanting to convey his meaning, Trevor laid a light hand on her shoulder. "I just wanted you to know you aren't alone in missing her, Detective. She has not been forgotten and I can't imagine her ever being."_

_Then, he'd departed and left the solitary detective alone in that cold, lonely graveyard, in the company of only ghosts._

As the taxi pulled to a stop at the requested address, Trevor paid the cabbie and stepped out of the car. It had been two years ago that day that Alex had been gunned down outside a bar and spirited away into Witness Protection. Not that Trevor had known that fact until February almost a year and a half later. In truth, he didn't really have to visit the site where her funeral had occurred, but it was as good a place as any. Alex might still be alive, but that didn't mean her absence was any less painful and he still found himself making the familiar trek.

Carefully navigating his way through the various plots, Trevor recognised a familiar figure, alone. He wasn't really surprised to find Olivia Benson there to be honest. He actually expected to find her there. Especially with the revelation earlier that year.

The detective looked up at the sound of the leaves crunching beneath Trevor's feet as he approached. She nodded to him from where she sat on the bench and glanced back at the headstone. "I wasn't sure if I'd see you this year," she murmured softly.

His shoulders moved as he shrugged. "I had to. Knowing she's still alive doesn't make what happened two years ago any different." Trevor sighed and took a seat next to Olivia and glanced over at his companion, his blue gaze searching her face. To his surprise, it appeared the same as it had each year. He half-expected to see something a little different, perhaps a little relief at knowing Alex was still alive and maybe new worry. It took a few moments, but his eyes widened slightly as he realised she had the same haunted look and appeared burdened by ghosts of what had transpired; that it had always been there. "You knew," he said simply and not without a touch of awe. "You knew she was still alive."

Olivia half turned to look at the defence attorney, a wary look in her brown eyes. Strangely enough, Langan's words didn't sound accusatory or hold the same threat of anger or condemnation for her burden. She nodded.

His eyes filled with sympathy and compassion. "Christ. I can't imagine knowing that. It had to have been hell."

Olivia's eyebrows lifted in surprise at the understanding she'd found in the unlikeliest of places. Even Munch, Cragen, and Fin hadn't initially understood what that knowledge had cost Elliot and her each day. It might have been better knowing that Alex was still alive, but they paid for it every day that passed without her there.

"At least the rest of us had some closure," Trevor said with a shake of his head before catching the detective's expression. The smile he offered was gentle. "Let me guess, most people who found out you knew only thought about the benefit of knowing and not the burden?"

Blinking, the brunette nodded again. "How…? Never mind, I'm going to stop asking questions the answers don't really matter to," she muttered.

Trevor smiled. "Your expression. You looked like you half-expected me to yell at you. I wouldn't, by the way, if only for the simple fact that you carry a gun and aren't afraid to use it," he grinned before continuing. "The fact that I would see the down side to knowing? Despite all claims to the contrary, defence attorneys are human."

"Can't prove it." Olivia smiled slightly. "I'll admit to prosecutors, but not the defence."

"Fair enough," he replied. "So, if you knew all these years, why come here?" he later asked.

The detective looked back at him. "The same reason you came today: it still doesn't change what happened. Alex was still shot two years ago. I still have her blood on my hands, and she is still not in my life. The knowledge might make it bearable, but it doesn't change the fact that I lost her that night." Olivia's unconscious use of present tense triggered the memory of Alex disclosing Donovan's words to the ADA five days before she had been shot. Except, when things did go down, the blood hadn't been on Alex's hands, but Olivia's.

Again, Trevor chose not to comment on the detective's hesitance or allusion of assumed responsibility. "And then, in February, you lost her again," he said, correctly reading what the detective didn't say.

"I don't know what was worse: losing her the first or the second time…or the third." At the slightly confused expression on Trevor's face, Olivia explained. "The night she was shot…we were told with everyone else she had died. It wasn't until two days later that Elliot and I found out differently. And it was only by Alex's insistence that it even happened."

The man nodded. "Two days of hell followed by an eternity of purgatory."

'_With one brief moment of heaven in an ocean of despair,'_ the detective thought briefly. What she said aloud was, "Something like that."

"I wonder, sometimes, why that case meant so much to her? Why she wouldn't drop it? Then I remember Alex never gave up a day in her life. I know she was always being accused of having to win."

"It wasn't about winning though." Olivia thought back to the last thing Alex had said before she'd been shot. _'We tell ourselves that we speak for the victims, but we don't. We can close cases, but the victims –even if they survive- their lives are ruined. I just get so sick of it.'_ "'Even when we win, we don't,'" she echoed aloud. "Part of the reason Alex wanted Zapata…even Velez, was because then maybe we could win by prevention instead of after the fact. She couldn't stand the thought of scum-bag predators getting off and walking the streets just because they had money and connections."

"It just seemed that some days she would let nothing get in her way. Not even a judge." Trevor recalled his mirth upon hearing Alex had been thrown in jail for contempt. For some reason, it just fit with who Alex was: going to the edge for her beliefs, even beyond the point of professional and personal well being.

"It's just who Alex is." Olivia responded. "When she knows that she's right and she believes that her cause is just, she'll walk through all hell to prove it. Some call it stubbornness; I call it loyalty not only to herself and those she is fighting for, but also a faith in her conviction."

Understanding what the detective was saying, the man nodded and admitted, "That was one of the reasons facing her was so exhilarating. Because you knew when you got one over on Alex Cabot, you'd proved you were damn good…if only for the hour or two before she hit you back."

Olivia's lips twitched at the many memories she had of Alex extracting revenge. "It definitely left you hurting for days afterwards," the woman added.

"Weeks," Trevor corrected. "Trust me. Having experienced it enough times, Alex's retribution defiantly lasted for weeks. It only encouraged me to try harder though." He was silent for a few moments before glancing over at the troubled detective. He swore there was not a moment she wasn't haunted by something, but maybe he could help a little… "The first time I caught an SVU case after she was shot, I wanted to say no, if not cry out right." Trevor left out the exchange between his partner promising to remove his tonsils if he didn't and when he'd smugly replied that the glands had been taken out on his eighth birthday, he'd been shortly informed that beginning with 't' and containing an 'i,' 'l,' and 's' it really didn't matter what body part it was. "When I faced and beat Novak…it just didn't feel the same."

The detective looked up at the attorney. She half-wondered what his aim or point was but shrugged mentally and left him to it. That was usually how these moments worked, in the unlikeliest of places Olivia found understanding and Trevor had a chance to remember Alex in relative peace with the one other person who knew her well. "They aren't the same person," she eventually said quietly.

Nodding, he agreed. "It surprised me. I half-expected Alex's successor to be as good as her. It took a couple of cases until I stopped comparing her to Alex." Olivia was silent for so long, Trevor began to doubt the wisdom in broaching the subject of Casey. Just as he was about to try and change it or leave, the detective spoke.

"I think we all expected Casey to be Alex and when she wasn't, we resented her presence," she spoke quietly, her voice soft, as if trying to not actually put tangible word to what she felt. "And when she was very up front about herself, it just hammered home that Alex wasn't there even harder."

Trevor nodded again. "Every time I see her try a case or make a deal, I can't help but remember what it was like before, and think of how Alex would have played it. It's not that she's a bad lawyer or person. Just that…"

"She's not Alex," Olivia finished and he smiled and shrugged almost helplessly. The detective shook her head gently. "Maybe when we stop comparing them, we'll all be better off. Especially Novak."

"Most likely. Unfortunately, that's much easier said than done." The words were wry and the attorney carefully continued to read the detective's body language. It was actually a challenge; the way they talked without actually asking questions. As if by not being direct, it meant that they weren't actually having amicable conversations. It was difficult at times, but it sure as hell made going back to opposite sides of the table of slimy defence lawyer and civil liberty trampling cop much easier.

Olivia nodded as if in unspoken agreement. "Like all parts of this job, we just have to learn acceptance." She paused and smiled slightly. "And then, it will become easier. The hard part though, is feeling like we are betraying Alex's memory by accepting Casey."

He glanced over at the detective and smiled to himself. "I don't think that is really a problem in either of our cases, you know. We both adore Alex too much for that. Beyond that, I get the strong feeling that she would kick both of our asses for being idiots about the entire situation."

A dark eyebrow arched in response.

"Well, think about it. Alex was always comfortable in herself and her place in the life here. You can tell from the way she came back to testify; she wasn't happy leaving it alone. I never once saw Alex in an insecure moment, and I could never imagine her in one." Trevor smiled and finished, "Alex would, however, understand accepting the new ADA. She's always been smart enough to know what you do in the name of survival."

Pulling back the cuff of his coat and exposing a thin strip of skin to the frosty bite of the air, Trevor checked the time and stood. He gave the detective a long look. "I know we never got off on the right foot, and I'm not going to do something as Hallmark as offer a hand in friendship. We tend to be on different sides of the trenches and are usually at odds, but I did want to tell you this: it's never been personal. Alex was a friend and I loved her. That she found love and joy with you makes you a decent and highly regarded person from my viewpoint. That may mean nothing, but I just wanted to thank you as someone who cared about Alex for making her as happy as you did, simply by being in her life."

With those quietly sincere words to think on, the detective watched the lawyer walk away into the dusk, autumn colours of early October. Despite previous years of finding Trevor Langan a deplorable excuse for a human being, she had to admit that the man did have his moments…you simply had to find him away from any other soul. With a deep, heartfelt sigh dredged from the depths of her soul, Olivia stood and stretched the blood back into her limbs. The rush of blood to near forgotten legs brought an almost painful awareness back in a manner not unlike what she'd felt upon seeing Alex again.

Walking the few meters to the headstone, Olivia touched the solemn gray with the tips of her gloved fingers. Until that day, she'd purposely locked everything even remotely related to the blonde ADA into a dark corner, never to see the light of day until it didn't hurt so badly to examine it. As always, work was a refuge, and like before, the detective had thrown herself into it as much as possible. Rarely though, was there the former passion; instead, it felt as though she was just going through the motions, just trying to survive each day. Each day until she could come back to herself.

When Fin had been shot, every thing from that night outside the bar and flooded back in a storm of anguish, fear, helpless frustration, and familiar dread of losing someone she couldn't really afford to. With so few people in her life outside of casual acquaintances –as most were, those she let in like Elliot, Alex, Fin, Munch, and Cragen became a part of her and the thought of losing any of them was unbearable. The fact that she had lost Alex made the grief and fear all the worse.

Normally, she doggedly and steadfastly avoided that night. Even briefly risking the errant thought threatened to consume her. It was funny, just how things came back so fast. A sight or a smell, the texture or sound of something and then you found yourself besieged by the flood of memory and associated emotion. She could spend months building up the walls around the part of her soul that belonged to Alex Cabot, only to have it fold in upon itself as if it were constructed of feathers. The smooth, cool vanilla scent of an understated perfume… The flash of silken gold… Occasionally, even the sound of heels triggered a memory, and then, she was left in a momentary state of panic from the flood of sensations, thoughts, and emotion.

Straightening, Olivia stood and glanced around the darkened cemetery. Some equally as dark corner of her mind offered up the observation that many a horror movie had opened or closed on a scene like the one before her. The detective pushed the thought aside, although it was a nicer distraction than remembering the hell of that night and life since Alex had been ghosted away. Taking one last look at the headstone, she turned and began to walk away. As she and her thoughts meandered through respective worlds of shadows, Olivia found herself asking the same questions as she always did.

Why?

How long?

Where was Alex?


End file.
